


the winter sun

by ad_meliora101



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Romance, Complicated Relationships, Detachment, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loss of Parent(s), Sad with a Happy Ending, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:42:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28961895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ad_meliora101/pseuds/ad_meliora101
Summary: Zuko thinks something might be wrong with him, beyond the things he already knows to be wrong with him, because the first thought that comes into his mind is: Father chose an absolutely beautiful day to die.
Relationships: Azula & Iroh & Ozai & Ursa & Zuko (Avatar), Ikem/Ursa (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Past Ozai/Ursa
Comments: 17
Kudos: 134





	the winter sun

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [On The Insignificance of Flowers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27312925) by [WriteBecauseYouCannotBreathe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteBecauseYouCannotBreathe/pseuds/WriteBecauseYouCannotBreathe). 



> I just wanted to add another warning. The themes in this fic are difficult and can be triggering. Please mind the tags.

In the private wing of Republic City General Hospital, Zuko watches as the frayed seams of his family begin to come totally apart. 

Grandfather is roaring with rage at his lawyers over the phone, ordering them to sue all the online tabloids in Republic City for leaking the initial police report of the _accident_. Yes, the _accident._ The _accident_ where his father, the CFO of one of the largest multinational conglomerate holding companies in the world, jumped off the roof of their 40-story office headquarters and landed onto a parked car. 

Ozai doesn’t do _accidents_ , every single aspect of his life is meticulously planned. Ozai’s life had a schedule, a rhythm, one that he rarely deviated from. His father woke up at 3:50 am every morning and went for a run around the grounds of their estate. He ate the same plain breakfast of gruel with spices and oil every day without fail. He dressed in the same tailored suits from his tailor of nearly 40 years, always matching his ties and socks. He has two cell phones, one for work and for his limited personal life, and worked hard to ensure that there was no overlap between the two. So no, this was not an _accident_ , Ozai jumped because he planned to jump. 

_He planned this_ , Zuko thinks as he sips his egg coffee. _But when?_

_Could it have been after Grandfather’s 80th birthday party last month?_

_Could it have been last week when he returned from that business conference in Omashu?_

_Could it even have been two nights ago when I bumped into him in the hallway on my way to the gym?_

His thoughts are interrupted by an especially loud bawl from Azula as Iroh and Lu Ten attempt to comfort her. Zuko sets down his egg coffee and walks over to the three of them. 

He takes in his sister’s disheveled appearance: the makeup running down her cheeks, her undone bun, and the dried blood on her silk cream blouse. 

Zuko clears his throat, “I’m going to get Azula a change of clothes.”

And before his uncle or cousin can even reply, he turns and walks towards the elevator. 

As he drives back towards the estate, he looks up at the silver clouds that hang high above him. Zuko exits the car and walks into the house, feeling the slight chill in the air. He then grabs a Republic City University sweater for Azula along with one of her many pairs of black performance leggings. 

As he rushes back to the hospital, his phone rings. 

A call from Uncle.

Zuko already knows what he will say and picks up the phone, nodding in confirmation of what he already knew to be true. 

Zuko thinks something might be wrong with him, beyond the things he already knows to be wrong with him, because the first thought that comes into his mind is: _Father chose an absolutely beautiful day to die._

* * *

Zuko sits in his room, running his palm over the unopened letter Ozai had left for him. He hasn't opened it and he doubts he ever will. Whatever Ozai had to say, he had all of Zuko's life to tell him in person, he just chose not to. So Zuko sits with the letter as his family walks through the house and estate, hovering over Ozai's home like ghosts. 

He hears crying and sobbing from Azula, Uncle, Grandfather, and Lu Ten but he hasn't cried, not even once. He remembers Azula taunting him as a child: _Zuzu, if you cry for every little thing, you won't be able to cry when it really matters._

Maybe, just maybe, his sister was right.

Later, Iroh confronts him in one of the hallways of the house, the older man solemnly looking into Zuko's eyes. “Nephew, I hope you know that you can talk to me about anything. How are you holding up?”

Zuko's lips curve upwards but it does not meet his eyes. “Thank you for asking, Uncle. I am doing as best as I can be under the circumstances.”

Iroh places a warm hand on Zuko's shoulder and pulls his nephew into a tight hug. He murmurs, “It is okay to miss him. Despite everything he did and didn't do, he was your father.”

For reasons he doesn't fully understand, his uncle’s words anger him, deeply. He knew Ozai was his father but did Ozai know that? Did it even matter to him? Zuko remembers the glares and disinterested glances he would receive. Even accomplishments would be scrutinized and brushed aside. Zuko's voice lowers to a near hiss, “I don't miss him, Uncle. He barely tolerated me.”

Iroh releases Zuko from the hug and peers into his bright golden eyes. Iroh's mouth is fixed in a straight line and he begins to open it to say something but is interrupted by Lu Ten calling them in to eat the takeout dinner he ordered. 

Later, as his family eats a quiet meal, Zuko sits between Lu Ten and Azula and gives no further thought to what Uncle Iroh was about to say. 

* * *

“I won’t let you or your bastard child into this house!” Azula screams as she blocks the doorway, refusing to let their mother or their seven-year-old half-sister come inside. 

It is raining heavily but Azula continues to scream at their mother and Kiyi as they stand under a large umbrella. Zuko pushes past Azula and puts his sandals on to walk into the rain. 

His mother is stoic, accepting all of Azula’s insults. Zuko wishes she would scream, cry, anything else besides just standing there and taking it. But Ozai was a good teacher so Ursa does what she was taught to do. Nothing, nothing at all but look at people with sad eyes. 

The sharp and fresh rain hits his cheeks as Zuko kneels down to be eye level with Kiyi. 

“Hi, Kiyi. Do you remember me?” 

“No,” Kiyi says as she clutches Ursa’s skirt. 

With a soft smile, Zuko says, “That’s okay. I’m your older brother, Zuko. I send you gifts every year for your birthday and the new year. Last year, I bought you a dollhouse.”

The little girl’s golden eyes widen and she exclaims, “You got me that?”

With a laugh, he replies, “Yes, that was a gift from me, little spark. Now, hold my hand and we are going to walk inside.”

Kiyi looks up at Ursa and once Ursa nods, she takes Zuko’s hand. 

They walk towards the house, Azula has gone up to her room, no longer interested due to Ursa’s muted reaction. 

Just as they reach the doorway, Kiyi looks up at him. “But what about the mean lady?”

Azula is unforgiving, condescending, and arrogant but he can’t tell a child that so instead, he says: “She’s our sister, and she’s not really mean...she’s just sad. She’ll calm down soon.”

Later, after Kiyi has eaten and is watching TV in their old playroom, Zuko, Azula, and Ursa sit in the kitchen for tea. 

Zuko runs his fingers through his dark hair as Ursa and Azula stare each other down. He used to love to watch their arguments and standoffs, proud that he had his mother to take his side since Father always took for Azula. Now, he doesn’t feel anything. 

Azula runs her bright red nails along the edge of the cup. Zuko looks into his sister’s eyes and can see a storm brewing in them as she seethes at their mother. 

“So what does Grandfather think about you bringing your _sin_ into our family home?”

Ursa nearly slams her cup on the table when she snaps at Azula. “Kiyi is your father’s daughter, she was conceived before I left! He and Grandfather both knew, that’s why Grandfather is allowing her to be here. You will never insult her again, Azula! Never! Do you understand?”

Azula’s posture stiffens and Zuko watches her face contort and shift as she processes this new information. 

A heaviness begins to set into Zuko’s stomach.

_Kiyi is Ozai’s child._

This whole time he thought Kiyi was Ikem’s daughter, the man their mother ran away to be with but she’s not. Kiyi is Ozai’s child, there is nothing different about her. She has the same exact blood that he and Azula have. But then...Ursa could have taken him with her when she left. He could have lived with his mother’s family and Ikem in Hira’a. 

She didn’t have to leave him here with Azula and Ozai.

His mother chose to leave him. 

“Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t anyone tell us?”

In a halting voice, his mother whispers, “We didn’t think it made a difference.”

At that, Zuko gets up, grabbing his coat and keys. 

He drives to a field not too far from their house, gets out of his car and screams. 

* * *

Zuko enters the living room and finds his mother sitting by the fireplace, her dark hair loose down her back. She is wrapped in one of his father’s favorite blankets, he doesn’t tell her that because she is the one who bought the blanket for Ozai. 

Ursa continues looking into the flames and speaks in hushed tones. “Azula is staying at her boyfriend’s house, Chan, I think. She told me she hates me. This isn’t the first time she’s said that but I don’t blame her anymore. Kiyi already wants to go home and Ikem hasn’t called me once since I-”

Zuko interrupts her, tired of her, of his family. “Mom, why did you leave me here? Why didn’t you take me with you?”

Ursa turns her head towards him, her long hair falling over her shoulder. With sad eyes, she declares, “Oh, Zuko, please don’t be angry with me. Your father wanted you, he wouldn’t have let me have you.”

“Did you even ask? Did you even try?”

“You wouldn’t have wanted to leave your school, your friends, or your activities. You wouldn’t have liked Hira’a. Remember that time you visited for the summer solstice, you and Azula thought it was so boring? Provincial, Azula called it. My parents wanted it that way, they wanted to live in the middle of nowhere. That’s why they sold my grandfather’s company in Caldera to your grandfather. That life was not for you, my love.” 

“Did you want me with you? Or did I look too much like Ozai for you and Ikem to bear?”

Ursa slowly rises, the blanket falling to the floor. Her eyes are sad and her mouth downcast as she approaches Zuko. “Darling, what are you saying? You are my little boy, of course I wanted you with me. I missed you so much.” 

Tears begin pooling into Zuko’s eyes as his heartbeat quickens. “Stop, you didn’t want me. You wanted to start over with a child that didn’t remind you of your old life. The mistakes you made. How you chose Dad over Ikem and how much you regretted that decision.”

“Zuko, please!” Ursa pleads as she reaches towards him. 

Backing away from her, Zuko declares, “It’s getting late, Mother. Tomorrow, Uncle and Grandfather are coming by to handle the funeral arrangements. Good night.”

He hears her crying and pauses, considering turning back around to comfort her but decides against it. Maybe he has more of his father in him than he ever thought.

* * *

They are arguing, over flowers of all things. 

Grandfather is adamant about having yellow chrysanthemums while Uncle suggests white lilies. His mother claims that on a date their father mentioned wanting white roses. 

Azula, lounging on the plush divan sofa, scoffs. “There's no way Dad talked about funeral flowers on a date with you! Grandfather, please ignore her. I don't see why she should have a say.”

Azulon strokes his white beard, “Now, Azula, be respectful towards your mother. She is still a member of this family and can share her opinion.”

In a half-whisper, Zuko suggests, “Why don't we just have all of them? It's not like we can't afford it.”

Azula sits up and scowls at him as Iroh states, “Father, I agree with Zuko.”

With a slight nod, Azulon replies, “Alright, then let us move on to make the other arrangements.”

As the meeting continues on, an agitated and bored Kiyi wanders into the room as Uncle's eyes widen in understanding. 

Azulon sends a firm look Zuko's way and orders him to find Kiyi some sort of entertainment. 

“Of course, Grandfather, I'll take her to the park,” Zuko jumps up and grabs the child's hand, half-rushing out of the room. 

* * *

Zuko scrolls through his phone, looking at the various headlines on his father's death as Kiyi plays hide and seek with the only other girl on the playground. 

“Are you her father? You both have the same chin.”

He turns his head towards the voice, a young woman with vibrant blue eyes. He didn't even notice that she moved to sit on the same bench as him. 

“I'm her brother.” He pauses and looks over at Kiyi's chin, now realizing that she has his chin, _Ozai's chin_. He doesn't know why he's still talking but he says, “It's our father's chin, I didn't notice that she had it until just now.” Zuko fiddles with his signet ring, pressing his thumb on the dragon insignia of their family. 

He looks at the other little girl, with a head of brown curls and looks back at the blue-eyed woman. “Are you her mother?”

“No, I'm her aunt.” Zuko watches as the woman looks him over. “I don't have any kids.”

She stammers and begins blushing softly. “I don't know why I said that, sorry. You didn't even ask about that.”

He laughs and takes in her thick wavy hair and delicate features. “It's okay, I don't have any kids either. In case you were wondering.” 

A smile cuts through his face as he watches her blush deepen and just as he is about to say something else, he gets a text from Azula.

**[Zuzu, go pick up the flowers from that floral shop in Dragon Flats.]**

**[Right now? I still have Kiyi with me.]**

**[Mother said to just pick up food for her on the way and let her play games on your phone. She claims that the child is well-mannered but she is definitely lying. The girl is unruly and ill-bred.]**

**[Enough, Lala. She's our sister, our _full_ sister. Try to be kind to her.] **

**[Get the flowers first and then we'll see.]**

He sighs as he puts his phone away. What is the point? Flowers or no flowers, Ozai is still dead. They are all pretending. Grandfather disapproved of him, Uncle didn't understand him, Mother left him, and he resented his father. Only Azula truly accepted and understood Ozai for what he was. The two of them shared a mind and spirit, walking through this world as if the gods fashioned it just for them. 

“Is everything okay?” The blue-eyed woman asks with concern in her eyes. 

Zuko blinks several times before replying, “I have to go run an errand now.”

“Oh,” she says as her face falls slightly. 

Quickly, he blurts out, “Zuko, my name is Zuko.” He reaches into his pocket and hands her his business card. “It looks like your niece likes my sister so you can call me if you want to schedule a playdate for them or something.”

A soft smile appears on her face as she pushes stray hairs back. “I'm Katara and I'll call to schedule a playdate or something.”

As he drives to the flower shop with Kiyi in the back seat, he says her name over and over again, trying it out on his tongue. 

* * *

He arrives at the park with hot chocolate for Katara. 

Katara smiles in thanks and takes off her gloves, allowing the heat to warm her hands. 

“Thank you, Zuko,” she breathes. 

He finds that he very much likes the sound of his name coming from her lips. 

She sets her cup down and hesitantly begins, “I don't want to pry. We just met each other but have you suffered a loss in your family recently?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Your sister, she told Kya, my niece, that she has two dads and the one she never met just died.”

Zuko sighs and tilts his head up. “Yes, our father just passed away. Kiyi wasn't raised by him.”

She places a gentle hand on his wrist, “I'm so sorry.”

He almost tells her not to be but he bites his tongue and catches her gaze. His eyes study her face and he notices her pinched brow. 

“She said other things, right?” Zuko asks but it is not really a question. 

“She said your mom told her he was depressed.”

“I-he-we were not very close.”

Katara doesn't say anything in response, she just leaves her hand on his wrist and they sit, breathing in the sharp winter air. 

* * *

After the funeral, his family stands in their plain white mourning outfits, handing red envelopes with coins inside to the many guests. Ozai had no real friends, yet with the large outpouring of grief, one would think he was kind, generous, and concerned with the well-being of others. It goes without saying that his father was not. 

He narrows his eyes as he looks through the long line of mourners and notices his childhood friend group of Mai, Ty Lee, Chan, and Ruon-Jian, paying their respects. He acknowledges Mai somewhat awkwardly, still unsure of how to greet the woman he broke up with less than a year ago. 

Jin, his college girlfriend-a girl Ozai called utterly unmemorable and plain to her face, causing her to run off in tears at his graduation dinner-is there to pay her respects though he surmises that she is solely there for him. 

Long after the cremation, as they are driven back home, Azula leans over and whispers in his ear. 

“Spirits, you couldn't even pretend to care at the funeral. Our father, the man who raised us is dead but that doesn't matter to you. You hated him for not allowing you to be weak, for expecting things of you.”

Zuko doesn't know what to tell her, he doesn't even know how to explain how he feels to himself. 

He looks at her, dead in the eyes, and declares, “He's gone and nothing anyone does will ever bring him back, Azula. He wanted to leave us and he did. So sorry if I'm not going to cry for someone who lived every moment on this planet as if they were the only person who mattered.”

She slaps him and he can't even find it in himself to sigh. 

* * *

They meet in the park semi-regularly, talking and awkwardly joking as Kiyi and Kya play in the play area. 

One afternoon, Katara invites him over to her apartment, the two of them sitting on her furry white carpet as they drink oolong tea and flip through the TV channels. It stops on a news channel that is reporting on Ozai and the family company, Katara quickly shuts the TV off. 

“I'm sorry you had to see that.”

With a sigh, he replies, “We can just talk instead, I doubt we'll find anything interesting on there.”

She nods as she places her hair into a braid. “You can ask me things if you want.”

He takes in her face and focuses on her eyes, she has the most beautiful eyes he has ever seen but they are sad, not unlike his own eyes. Before he can stop himself, he asks, “Have you lost someone close to you?”

Katara gives him a sad, small smile. “My mom passed away when I was young. She was a nurse and worked the night shifts, it was winter and she lost control of her car.”

“I'm sorry.”

She continues, “My father remarried pretty quickly and I hated him for it. My brother didn't mind so he stayed at home when I moved here for high school. I lived with my step-grandfather and my grandmother and I loved it, I met my two best friends here, they are like two bonus siblings.” Katara touches her pendant necklace, “Back there, everything reminded me of her but here, only this necklace does and that's okay.”

“Sokka lives here now, right?”

“Yeah, he just moved here. Kya's mom, his wife, died last year.” 

“I'm very sorry. How did she die?” he asks, gently. 

Plainly, she answers, “Cancer.” Then Katara adds, “She was beautiful and so kind.” Laughing softly, her eyes sparkling slightly, “Yue was a little odd too, she dyed her hair white to stand out because everyone else had black or brown hair back home.”

Zuko looks at Katara, really looks at her and thinks he could care deeply for her, that he probably already does care deeply for her. She is different, strange almost in how kind she is, but then he is different too, so maybe they fit. Two odd and sad people, looking out into the same world. He continues to ask her questions and learns more about her dad, her mom, Sokka, Toph, Aang, her Gran-Gran, and her strict step-grandfather Pakku. 

It is late in the night, when he runs his thumb along his knuckles and pauses before he begins, “I looked up from my desk out the window and saw my dad falling.”

* * *

Zuko opens his nightstand and pulls out the letter Ozai wrote to him. His hand shakes as he reads Ozai's neat and beautiful calligraphy. 

He puts it back into the envelope and drives to his uncle’s house.

Zuko knocks on the door, several times, taking deep breaths and half-trips as Iroh opens the door. 

“Zuko, are you-”

He pulls his uncle into a tight hug, one that nearly hurts the both of them as he cries for his father for the first time. 

“I miss him, Uncle. I do. I wish that he...” his voice trails off as he becomes overwhelmed by the things he had tried so hard to not feel. 

“It's okay, Zuko. I know, I know,” Iroh whispers. 

* * *

By the time Azula walks downstairs, he, Ursa, and Kiyi are enjoying a delicious breakfast of hotcakes. 

Azula narrows her eyes at them but takes a plate of hotcakes and walks outside to sit at the table by the pool. 

Zuko follows after her with his plate. “Lala, I'm sorry.”

Azula looks at him with unfocused eyes. “For what specifically?”

Zuko rubs the back of his neck. “I hated you for the way he would treat me but his behavior wasn't your fault.”

She doesn't reply and starts eating her breakfast. 

Hoarsely, he states, “Lala, I love you. You're my sister and I love you.”

Azula lets out a soft breath and motions for him to sit down across from her. 

Zuko sits and the two siblings eat in comfortable silence. 

* * *

With a bright smile, Katara ushers him into her apartment. 

Zuko presses soft kisses to her forehead, cheeks, and lips, breathing quiet words of thanks. 

Katara whispers, “I haven't done anything.”

“You've done much more than you'll ever know.”

Later, they make love tenderly on her bed, their fingers tightly intertwined. 

The next morning, they sit wrapped in several layers of blankets on her balcony as they watch the gentle waves of light overtake the sky. 

Katara looks over at him, with a blend of sincerity and mischief along with a soft blush, she confesses, “I think your eyes are more beautiful than the sunrise.”

And he smiles at her, a dazzling and tender one, and despite the bitter air at their cheeks, he does not feel cold. 

**Author's Note:**

> *1/25/21: I’m absolutely blown away by the reception! Thank you for the kudos, comments, bookmarks, and hits, I really appreciate it.*


End file.
